


Celluloid Dates

by Amuly



Series: Celluloid Pseudonyms [1]
Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hook-Up, Identity Porn, M/M, Movie Night, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early days of the Avengers, Steve catches Iron Man watching some of his old films--and sleeping, while watching them. This kicks off a series of not!dates between himself and Iron Man... and somethings that maybe are not-not!dates between himself and Tony Stark. Flash forward years and years, and Tony's still got the same reaction to Steve's old films (that is, they're his virtual warm milk before bedtime).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celluloid Dates

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this conversation](http://everybodyilovedies.tumblr.com/post/76464856645) between myself and tumblr user [wintahsouljaboy](http://wintahsouljaboy.tumblr.com/) about a particular scene in the comics that I just had to make right.

Iron Man crawled through the window of Avengers Mansion with a groan. His rocket boots were shot, his hydraulics were shot—even his _skates_ were shot, that was the day he was having. The armored suit collapsed onto the floor of the Mansion with a thud, the man inside it taking a moment to breathe before he pushed himself up again.

No matter how quietly Iron Man walked, the echo of his armored boots and clack of metal against metal sounded loud through the hopefully empty halls of the Mansion. He shared the place with other people now, the Avengers, and he couldn't afford for one of them to find him like this. God forbid he ran into someone like _Cap_ , who would want to peel him out of his armor and tend to him like a mother hen. No, Iron Man just needed to make his way down to his lab where he could lick his wounds in peace.

It wasn't until Iron Man was in his lab and ran a diagnostic on his armor that he realized the bad news.

“ _Three hours_ ,” he grumbled to himself. He wanted to sigh and run a hand through his hair, but it was impossible trapped in the suit as he was.

Well. If his lab was going to take three hours to fabricate what he needed to safely peel himself out of his Iron Man suit, he would just have to find something else to occupy his time.

“Jarvis?” Iron Man called through Jarvis' private line.

“ _Yes sir?_ ” Jarvis' voice replied.

“Bump Tony Stark's appointments back, wherever you can. Looks like he won't be available for another few hours. Give it four, at least.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony—for it was _he_ inside the Iron Man armor, the genius industrialist Tony Stark—sighed and clicked off his communication with Jarvis. What to do for three hours? He could work in the lab, while the tools he needed fabricated. But although the armor was an engineering marvel, it was still a little clunky to do lab work in. And he didn't need a curious Avengers stumbling upon Iron Man working in the lab. Tony Stark was supposed to be the engineering genius, and Iron Man just the hired muscle. He'd have some explaining to do if Iron Man was caught inventing a new element or something. Eating was out, unless he wanted to liquify his food down into smoothie form that he could drink through his mouth-slit; and even though the suit had a built-in filtration system, he didn't really feel like peeing in it if it wasn't an emergency. So that eliminated drinking.

Five minutes of wandering the Mansion found Iron Man in the home theater. Shrugging to himself, Tony sat down in one of the theater seats. He poked at the built in remote for a moment, gauntlets making it not a little difficult to select something in specific. After a moment he just settled for jamming his hand down on the remote and watching whatever ended up playing.

Black and white footage flickered to life on the screen and Tony sighed, thinking he'd selected one of Steve's movies. The guy still had a taste for the classics, a few weeks out of the ice. You'd think he'd move _on_ already. Tony chuckled to himself as he sat back in his chair and resigned himself to something like _Philadelphia Story_ or _Wizard of Oz_. Not that Steve _wasn't_ adapting remarkably well for a guy from the stone ages. It was just that Tony couldn't help but rib him sometimes, both as Tony Stark and as Iron Man. Double the fun, double the laughing and blushing Steve, rubbing his hand over the back of his head or frowning sternly at him.

To Tony's surprise, the video that came on screen wasn't one of Steve's movies, but was one of _Steve's_ movies. That is, an old wartime propaganda film of Steve, punching Nazis and saving the day. Tony's mood brightened considerably. There he was, fifteen feet tall and teeth gleaming pearly-white in the old footage. Tony watched as Steve single-handedly took down a monster Nazi tank, then stopped long enough to have a chat with the wartime reporter filming the footage. He even spared a moment to thank the people at work at home, helping with the war effort. Tony laughed and slumped down in his suit, half-teared up. Steve was larger-than-life goodness, was what he was. He really did belong on the silver screen.

Three hours later Iron Man levered himself up out of his theater seat and creaked his way back to the lab, where his robots were finally read to peel him out of his suit. Tony sighed in relief as he breathed the fresh air of his lab (well, fresher than the air in his suit, at least). Now time to grab a quick shower and return to the world as Tony Stark.

* * *

 

The two am moonlight was harsh against Tony's face, stabbing through his curtains just so perfectly to keep him awake. Tony sighed and rolled away from the window, putting his back to the light. No good. He was awake, there was no helping it.

Scrubbing his face, Tony levered himself up on his elbows and looked around his bedroom. He weighed his options. He could go down to the lab and work... except Tony Stark was supposed to be overseas right now, on a business meeting. The Avengers mission had wrapped up early this week, leaving Tony has a virtual prisoner in his own home for another day. Unless he wanted to walk around as Iron Man.

Actually, that was a thought. Pushing himself out of his bed, Tony pressed a button under his desk, opening a secret panel in his wall. It lead to his lab, where the Iron Man armor stood waiting for him. Tony suited himself up, then clunked his way through the house and down to the theater. If there was one thing that would put him to sleep, it was some of Cap's old films.

This time Tony was able to take off his gauntlet and select a film he actually wanted, rather than whatever his armored hand selected by chance. Scrolling through the _Adventures of Captain America_ folder on the TV, Tony hummed to himself as he tried to decide on a film. Eventually he settled on the earliest batch: _Captain America and Bucky_.

It was bittersweet, watching Steve lead raids on German lines, his young companion Bucky in tow. Tony didn't know the kid, but he knew _of_ him. Every kid knew Bucky growing up—every kid wanted to _be_ Bucky. Serving alongside Captain America, fighting the good fight, going on adventures in Europe. Even his death, heroically sacrificing himself to help save the world: there was something glamorous about that, when you were seven years old and invincible.

In spite of sitting in the harsh confines of his metal suit, Tony found himself nodding off after an hour or two. He was awoken by an faint tapping, a metallic rumbling around his skull. Blearily Tony opened his eyes, remembering easily enough where he was and what he had been doing. And who he was supposed to be pretending to be.

His HUD system was still on, transmitting information to him about the outside world. At just this moment, that information was Steve Rogers' smiling face, peering down at him.

“Iron Man? Are you awake in there? Has there been a malfunction?”

Exaggeratedly Tony yawned and stretched, bones cracking and suit creaking. Steve grinned more fully and stepped back as Tony stretched. His arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows lifted in amusement.

“Awake now, thanks to you,” Tony teased.

Steve laughed and kicked lightly at the leather chair Tony was sitting in. “Sure looks like Mr. Stark knows how to build his furniture,” he commented. “I don't _think_ these things have a standard load of up to a thousand pounds.”

Tony rapped armored knuckles against the metal of his chest plate. “Hey, way to make a guy feel fat. I'm four hundred pounds, tops.”

“Oh, well that's alright, then,” Steve laughed. He took a seat next to Iron Man, sinking into the plush leather of the private theater seating.

“Better re-read that info packet Mr. Stark gave you: there are plenty of Americans who weigh four hundred plus now. Furniture better be able to handle it.”

Steve laughed again. He was doing that more and more these days, as he got settled in. Tony was glad to see it—even if his expressionless faceplate didn't exactly show it.

Steve turned to Tony. “Hey, speaking of Mr. Stark: when's he coming back? He's out of town on business, Jarvis told me?”

Tony shrugged, heavy metal shoulders lifting up, then falling down. “Tonight, so he said. You never know with him, though.”

Steve shook his head. “No, you never do.” Tony checked his expression: Steve was smiling, a rueful little thing. Seemed like he didn't mind “Mr. Stark's” occasional erratic decision making. The thought crossed Tony's mind—as it often did when he was in the suit—to ask Steve his opinions on his alter-ego. But he resisted the temptation. When Steve found out (and he would, one of these days, there was no doubt about that), Tony would have enough awkward explaining to do. Never mind if Steve realized he'd been essentially spying on him, after a fashion.

While Tony was lost in his own thoughts, Steve had turned to the movie screen in front of him. “What are you up to, here? Not watching any dirty pictures, are you?” He elbowed Iron Man's rib plate.

Tony laughed. “Well, if I was, it'd be some kind of torture. I mean, with the...” he gestured down at his groin, securely encased in metal. Steve started laughing, hard. Tony laughed with him, even though it probably sounded weird modulated through the suit.

Picking up the remote, Steve fumbled around with it. It wasn't until he started hitting the rewind button, flipping through Tony's impromptu bedtime playlist, that Tony realized there might be a problem.

“Oh, uh...”

Too late. Images of Captain America himself flickered up on the screen. And his faithful companion, Bucky.

Tony froze. Steve froze. On screen, Bucky swung a stick and connected with a grenade, sending it flying back at the Nazis who threw it. Captain America flipped into the action and scooped Bucky up, darting away with him just in time to beat the explosion.

“What-” Steve's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you watching these old things for?” he asked, false levity in his tone. “They're... way too old for you...”

Tony sighed. He wanted to scrub his hand through his hair, but he settled for removing his gauntlet so he could awkwardly take the remote from Steve. He didn't miss the way Steve checked his hand, taking in the detail of it and filing it away. _Caucasian, maybe Mediterranean. Brunette. Between eighteen and fifty_. Tony could see the tactical information registering with Steve, even through his grief.

“Just bedtime videos,” Tony explained. He wasn't sure how to proceed, so he tried honesty. Probably the best policy when you were talking to Captain America himself. “Couldn't sleep, and... well, I used to watch these as a kid. Captain America and Bucky. I used to... you know. Pretend I was on adventures with you, as a kid.”

“And look at you now.” There was still a tightness to Steve's voice, but it was relaxing, somewhat. He glanced over at Iron Man. “Did you want to be Bucky?”

“Sure thing,” he replied. “Why do you think I signed up to fly Mr. Stark's crazy suit?”

Steve nodded, smiling a little. Tony replaced the gauntlet over his hand, and Steve's eyes flickered down to catch one last glimpse of it. Then he turned back to the screen.

“You got any other pictures to watch? Maybe something a little less... Narcissistic?”

Tony checked the time in his HUD. He had another few hours before he needed to get down to JFK and fly out to an _actual_ business trip. He could spare the time. “Sure thing. Hey, speaking of metal masturbatory impediments—ah, I kinda gave away the whole thing. Forget I said that. But this is a classic: Robin Hood Men in Tights.”

“Men in Tights?” Steve repeated. He glanced out the side of his eyes at Tony. “That's not a dig at me, I hope?”

Tony grinned. “If you're Robin Hood, I think that makes me Maid Marian, and I don't know if you're _that_ adjusted to the future, yet.”

Steve laughed at that, and Tony sighed in relief that he'd managed to lighten the mood. As the movie flickered on, Tony made a mental note: no more Captain America films while Steve was living at the Mansion.

* * *

 

The computer screen flickered as the image went live, Steve's face choppy at first but then coalescing into a (relatively) smooth picture.

“Mr. Stark!” Steve's expression split into a grin as he stared through the screen. “Hey! See, I like this! This is what I thought the future'd be like.”

“Video phones, right?” Tony asked with a laugh. He sat back in his jet and swirled a tumbler of scotch in his hand. This time he actually _was_ away on business, for once.

“Yeah! And you're calling me from a plane. On a video phone!” Steve beamed.

“I know, I know: the future is pretty neat. So, hey! How're things going at the Mansion? You getting along with everyone?”

“Oh, I'm all fine, thank you, Mr. Stark. How's your trip going? You're back home tonight, right?”

Tony smiled crookedly at Steve. “I'm going to get you to call me Tony, one of these days. And it was fine, boring business meetings, you know.” And because Tony couldn't help himself: “Iron Man throw any wild parties while I was away?”

Steve shook his head and smiled. “Naw, of course not, none of that. Him and I watched a movie together last night, actually.”

Leaning closer to his computer screen, Tony raised his eyebrows. “Really? Which one?”

Steve blushed, just a little. That Irish skin of his did nothing to hide his feelings, even with as shitty a connection they had on this flight. “Uh... Robin Hood Men in Tights. Iron Man assured me it was a classic.”

“And?” Tony grinned.

Steve rubbed the back of his head. “Well. The humor was... pretty bawdy. But funny. I liked it. Just maybe a little blue for me to feel comfortable watching it with anyone besides Iron Man.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Oh, so you and Iron Man are getting close?”

Steve's expression turned all “aw, shucks” in a moment, like he was getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “He works great in the field. Kinda hard to spend much time with him out of it, but when we do he seems like a swell guy. A good man you picked for your bodyguard, if you were to ask my opinion.” Steve hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to ask something. After plucking up his courage, he leaned closer to his computer, mirroring Tony. “Hey, Mr. Stark? You mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Only if you call me 'Tony' while you're asking it,” Tony shot back.

Steve smiled crookedly. “Fine, you got me. _Tony_ : did you watch my old films? When you were a kid, I mean. Did you... did you want to be Bucky?”

Tony smiled softly at Steve. He thought about how he'd answered him as Iron Man, and tried to figure out how Tony Stark would answer differently. Tony Stark, as in the genius industrialist, _not_ Tony Stark the secret alter-ego of Iron Man.

“I was smarter than Bucky,” Tony finally replied. Steve looked horrifically offended, so much so that Tony couldn't help laughing. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to insult his memory. I was just... smarter than everyone. They toss around the word 'prodigy' too much these days, but I really was one. I didn't want to be Bucky—I wanted to be better than Bucky. I wanted to be your...” Tony laughed, running a hand over his goatee. “I wanted to be your roadie.”

“Rhodey?”

“No, r-o-a-d-i-e. The people who drive around with the band, set up the laser shows and smoke effects and equipment.”

Steve's face lit up. “You wanted to be your father.”

A punch to the gut, almost physical nausea, went through Tony at the comparison. Steve seemed to realize he'd said something wrong, because his face lost its light joking expression and got serious real quick. “Oh, I mean-”

Tony shook his head. To reassure Steve, and to clear it. “No. It's alright. I know what you meant.”

“You wanted to help me the way you help,” Steve explained. His expression brightened. “And you did! You do, I mean. You designed the Iron Man armor. You fund the Avengers. You found me, and brought me back. You've helped me exactly the way you best could, without being in the field. And honestly...” Steve reached towards the computer, like he wanted to take Tony's hand. He smiled genuinely at Tony. “I'm glad you're not in the field. It means I've got one friend, at least, who's smart enough to stay out of harm's way.”

A twinge of guilt went through Tony, but he smiled back. Steve was right, what he said: Tony was helping out Captain America, _exactly_ how he imagined he would be when he was a little boy. Nothing was going to make him feel bad about that: not even Captain American inadvertently guilting him.

“Hey, speaking of how smart I am,” Tony segued. Steve made a face, but it was mostly fond. “That movie Iron Man showed you? Robin Hood? Totally low brow humor; can't believe the guy doesn't have better tastes. You want a classic, all brains and tech? You'll have to head to the lobby for a treat, because it's gonna be a long one: _2001: A Space Odyssey_.”

Steve squinted at him for a moment. “Is that... I assume it's fictitious, right? It's not actually about something that happened in two thousand and one?”

Tony laughed and glanced at his computer clock. Shit. He was going to have to suit up, soon. The work of Iron Man was never done—and a double life was an exhausting one. “No, no. It was made in nineteen sixty-eight, actually. And the only reason I know _that_ , is because it was the last movie made about man landing on the moon _before_ we landed on the moon.”

“So it's science fiction but... out of date?” Steve asked. “It's still a classic, today?”

“Rogers, I am going to blow your mind. You're never going to wanna watch a movie with Iron Man again after this.”

Steve smiled happily at him through the screen. “Well that's all right. Between the both of you, I'll get a nice range of modern movies. Don't you think?”

Tony grinned. “Sure thing.” To himself, he noted that he was going to have to start carefully splitting his favorite movies between himself and Iron Man. The perils that came with a secret identity.

The clock on Tonys computer started flashing. Time was up. “Hey, Steve, sorry to cut our call short, but-”

“You've got business. Sure thing, Tony. Don't worry about it.”

Tony waggled a finger at his computer. “You'll watch _2001_ with me, though? Promise.”

“Promise,” Steve agreed with a grin. Tony shut his laptop with a click, then hurried to get into his armor. While he did, he considered how hard exactly he was going to lay on the charm, as Tony Stark or Iron Man. He'd have to give one the advantage, eventually, if he didn't want poor Steve torn between the two identities. At least he didn't have any _actual_ competition (unless, of course, Steve had his eye on someone else).

* * *

 

Iron Man powered down his gauntlets, lowering them cautiously as his HUD flashed up readings from the blasted hole in the wall.

_Structural integrity: 19%_

_Sidewinder: Searching... Searching... Searching..._

“Iron Man! You gotta get out of there!”

_Searching... Searching..._

“Iron Man!”

Tony growled and turned his head to the side. “Just a minute, Cap! I can't-”

 _Whomp_! Iron Man flew to the side, knocked solid in the chest by about three hundred pounds of slithery muscle. He starting charging his gauntlets to fire, but they were too slow. Sidewinder hit him again, sending Iron Man sprawling onto the ground. Tony banged about the inside of his suit, the wind knocked out of him. As he struggled to breathe, his HUD started flashing warnings at him. Sidewinder was coming up behind him; Sidewinder was going to hit him again...

A hiss and a screech, followed shortly by a crash of rubble and the sharp sound of twisting rebarb. A hand reached down in front of him, tugging him up. “Iron Man!” Captain America shouted. “We gotta get you out of here!”

_Structural integrity: 8%_

“I'm with you there, Cap,” Iron Man wheezed. He slung one arm over Steve's shoulder and allowed himself to be dragged out of the building, leaking hydraulic fluid the whole way. The HUD adjusted to the bright glare of sunlight as they stepped outside, just seconds in front of the building collapsing behind them.

Iron Man limped his way to turn around, watching as the building crumbled down. He sighed and leaned a little more heavily on Steve, shifting his weight off his damaged leg. The suit had protected him, luckily, but it was going to need a lot of work tonight.

“Well there goes my plans,” Steve sighed.

Tony cocked his head at Steve. “What plans?”

Even under the cowl, Tony could tell Steve was blushing. Either that, or his cheeks were dotted pink from exertion—they _had_ just had a close call with the Serpent Society. But Tony had a feeling it was the former more than the latter.

“I was going to ask you something, but now Mr. Stark's going to have to repair the armor, so you two'll be working through the night...”

Tony's eyebrows practically dinged off his helmet, they shot up so high. “What were you going to ask me?”

Steve ran his hand over his cowl, fingers flickering over one of his helmet wings nervously. “Just if Mr. Stark was around to catch a movie. I liked the one you picked out, but Mr. Stark said _he_ had a list for me to work through.” Steve grinned apologetically at Iron Man. “He said it'd be better than yours.”

“Really?” Iron Man asked.

Steve shrugged, eyes casting downward awkward. “Yeah. I mean, not that I don't enjoy your company, and I sure love watching movies with you. It's just Mr. Stark's been busy, and he _did_ make me _promise_ to watch some movies with him...”

Iron Man had to flick off his voice amplifier quickly, lest Steve hear him _laughing his ass off_ inside the suit. Steve was... was letting him down gently. Letting _Iron Man_ down gently. Because he wanted to “watch movies” with _Tony Stark_.

Well, hey: at least _he_ didn't have to make the choice _for_ Steve, at this point. Looks like Steve had it handled all himself.

“Raincheck?” Tony cut in, voice modulator back on. “I mean... I can tell Mr. Stark, when I see him tonight. That you want a raincheck.”

Steve beamed under his cowl. “Oh. Really? You would?”

Iron Man squeezed Steve's shoulder with one gauntleted hand. “Of course. I can't have all the fun introducing you to the twenty-first century. How about tomorrow night? Mr. Stark'll have the suit up and working by then. Well, enough for him to take a break for you.”

Steve laughed and knocked his head gently into Iron Man's helmet. “Alright then. Tell him... Tell him it's a date.”

* * *

 

The smell of buttery popcorn filled the kitchen as Tony poured out the third bag into a bowl and stuck a fourth in the microwave. “Now, I _trust_ Iron Man—with my life, wouldn't you know it...” Tony started. Steve was standing against the counter, butt propped against it, as he listened to Tony prattle on. “But he told me something you said, and I think maybe he took the liberty of paraphrasing it. He must have.”

“What'd he say?” Steve asked. Tony glanced at him: a curious little smile was tugging at the corners of Steve's mouth, no matter how hard he tried to keep it down.

Tony passed one of the bowls of popcorn over to Steve, then went for the fridge. He pulled a pair of two liter bottles of Coca Cola out of it and stuck them out to Steve. When Steve reached out to take them, Tony held on, tugging Steve closer to him. Steve went willingly, that smile still playing around the edges of his mouth.

“ _Iron Man_ said that _you_ said to tell me 'it's a date'.”

Steve hummed, tugging harder on the Coca Cola bottles. Tony let them go, watching Steve carefully as he returned back to the kitchen island and set them there.

“I said that,” Steve finally admitted as he turned back to Tony.

Tony waited, but Steve didn't expand on that. The microwave dinged behind Tony.

“And?”

Steve shrugged as he gathered up the two bottles of soda and one bowl of popcorn. “And? You're a smart guy, Mr. Stark. I trust in you. To figure it out.”

With a wink, Steve left the kitchen, leaving Tony gaping with a half-bowl of popcorn and an insistently beeping microwave.

“You coming?” Steve called back to him from the other room.

Tony's stomach flipped. He grinned and grabbed at the microwave, throwing the bag in the popcorn bowl unopened. “Right behind you!” he called back as he hurried out.

_10 Years Later_

“Shhh! Listen...” Logan whispered. Steve kept an eye on his team from behind the stage. He didn't really have to watch his old footage—watching his teammates was more interesting.

“Zzzzzz – szcch – zzzz...”

“I knew it!”

Steve shook his head and grinned. Then he trained his face into a more camera-friendly smile, instead of his private _Tony_ smile. He waved and walked on stage and shook hands, just like he was supposed to... though his eyes drifted back to Iron Man more times than they probably should have.

Afterwards, Iron Man strode over to Steve and placed a heavy armored hand on his shoulder. “Great speech, Cap. Looking good.”

Over Iron Man's shoulder, Spiderman started jumping up and down, trying to get Steve's attention. “He was asleep! We caught him sleeping! During your film reels!”

Logan cuffed Spiderman upside the head with one meaty, metal-filled fist. Spiderman immediately stopped jumping and switched to wincing, and holding his head in pain. “What are you, tattling on Mom to Dad? Grow up,” he grunted.

“Uh...” Tony started. “I can explain?”

But Steve was already smiling at Tony. “No need.” He turned to Spiderman and Logan, and some of the other Avengers that had gathered 'round to wish him congratulations. “Tony used to watch my old films when he couldn't sleep at night. Like a glass of warm milk. It's actually kind of how we first started dating.”

Logan grunted. “Gross. I'm outta here. Before Stark gives us the gory details.”

“Speaking of which...” Tony turned to Steve, nudging him with an armored shoulder. “What you say you and I bail on the after party so I can... _honor_ you... in my own, _private_ way...”

Spiderman's mask wrinkled up. “Ew, no, no way. Mom and Dad are about to get busy. Gross. Didn't need to know _any_ of this.”

Steve just smiled fondly at Tony, who reached up to tweak at the wings on the side of his cowl. “We can even watch some old film footage when we get back to mine,” Tony suggested.

Steve laughed at that and shook his head. “Still feels narcissistic. And besides...” Steve leaned in close, even though he probably didn't have to with Tony's mechanically-assisted hearing: “we wouldn't want you falling asleep. Not until I'm done with you.”

 


End file.
